She uttered the words, "I'm fine."
The answer became monotonous in a way. And each time she delivered the overused phrase it sounded more unconvincing.
But, she was fine.
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I despise the word "fine."
Do you want to know why? Because I fell victim to the term. And then I began recognizing the myriad of women around me who were using it as well. In fact, it became so common you didn't even have to ask, "How are you doing? or "How is life as a new mom?" or "How is life with a newborn?"
Because as you can suspect.....It. Was. Fine.
I became complacent in my answer and maybe, just maybe all of those women did too but they didn't know it or say it.
To me...."fine" is bullshit. Fine is "No, I am not okay." or "No, I don't feel right." Fine is often the scapegoat of an underlining issue that hasn't been addressed. It is the cloud that looms over head. It is the answer we give to avoid the truth--not because we are a coward but because we are expected to handle it. We may avoid it out of fear. We may avoid it out of pride. We may avoid it, because we ourselves don't want to appear weak.
I can tell you it is the furthest thing from weak. It goes beyond fear or pride.
So whether it is a miscarriage, a dim health diagnosis, a death of a child, the birth of a child or anything in between--it is perfectly okay not to be "fine."
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This one is dedicated to Jamie. His ability to look you straight in the eyes, pause, listen, ask more questions and not settle for "fine" is something I will be indebted to him forever. This time around (George) has been what I would like to term, "bittersweet and with peace."